


White Walls and White Dogs

by DrimmsyDra



Series: Hold Me Until the Dawn Comes [1]
Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Easter Eggs, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Madness, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-10-13 13:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrimmsyDra/pseuds/DrimmsyDra
Summary: A very long journey to happiness that goes through the pain and madness and is full of nightmares and despair and silent wishes...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of my longest story called Hold Me Until the Dawn Comes.  
The pre-show era.
> 
> Warning: some war flashbacks; cruelty and violence

** _From Capt. HM Murdock's diary_ **

_I look around in the dead morning;_

_life is out of breath._

_We get too old every day_

_just for Devil's derision._

_I'm circling in the sky, seeking salvation_

_but can only find a few dark days._

_So I whisper in your hair_

_"hold me until the dawn comes"._

_I'm counting every mile now;_

_the blues grow_ _ with each step we make._

_Stay with me for a while longer_

_'cause without you, I'm a mere shadow._

_Again, Death sings in this black night_

_I try to laugh at It, in tears._

_What right? What power?_

_I can only ask in vain._

_Our fate sleeps in the jungle_

_I'm flying directly towards it_

_and all of us know the truth_

_no need to say more._

_I'm counting every mile now_

_the blues grow_ _ with each step we make._

_Stay with me for a while longer_

_'cause without you, I'm a mere shadow._

_Raising my hands closer to you_

_I may fall asleep in your arms._

_You clutch my palms, knowing very well_

_that I'm drowning in my madness._

_We're counting every mile_

_the mind disappears like smoke._

_Stay with me for a while longer_

_'cause without you, I'm just a mere shadow._

Vietnam, 1972

Fear… horror… smell of kerosene… blood… sweat and urine… smell of death… I can see the blood soaking into the floor covered with musty straw… I can hear screams, moans and whisper… see some hands… but I can't touch them… oh man, I want you to hold me… can see some other hands… they're trying to grab me… pull me away… I don't want this… no, DON'T WANT TO!

I'm clutching my head and plucking my hair in a panic attack. I wanna cut everything out. All the visions, all the noise coming from my mind, all the terror inside of me… I'm crouching in the dark corner of my Huey, my hands pressed against my ears and I can't, I really can't stop the shaking of my body…

A several times folded piece of paper with your written promise fell out of my hand. As I look at it, my eyes are starting to fill with tears. You swore. You promised me you'd always be here to hold me when I fell to the ground. And now I'm so deep that I can't go any deeper anymore. And you… you are gone.

I reach for the paper desperately and press it against my chest… if I could pray, I would do it. But no one ever taught me. You didn't teach me this either. You held me… and that was all I needed. What I need now, again. What happened? What the hell happened at all? Why did Colonel Morrison do that? That damn bank… why? And why is everyone screaming at me?

They keep calling me. I hear them. Despite the screams inside my head, I can hear them but I won't go. I won't climb out, never again. This is my bird, my baby I can fly away with… my safe place… I have no juice. I have no crew anymore. I lost everything, absolutely everything… just this flying beauty has stayed with me and nobody can take me away from her. The Captain never abandons his ship, goes down with her.

But… when I ignored their calling, they came for me. They tried to persuade me, calm me down, order me… I didn't respond. I wanted them to go away. To leave me alone. But they didn't…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are rhymes in Murdock's text in my original language but unfortunately, it was pretty hard to translate it. I hope I at least kept the meaning of the words...  
Anyway, thank you for reading. I will be honored if you decide to join me on this journey. The next chapter will be longer and more meaningful, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere in Washington, April 1972

Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith poked the campfire and wrapped himself up in an olive green blanket. The time just before dawn was always the coldest of the entire morning and they did not have the best camp equipment.

Watching the small fiery tongues licking the wood, Hannibal sank deeper into his thoughts. His little team had been on the run for about two months and although their lieutenant had managed to get a relatively good car in some of his usual mysterious ways, their provisions was more than miserable and they were strapped for cash. There was money from occasional jobs, but it was never enough and all went mainly for food and gas. Not that there wasn't enough work around, but they could not risk a longer stay in one place. One week was the maximum that the current situation allowed them, and yet Hannibal got nervous when they were somewhere for more than three days.

The first tentative bird song was heard in the morning air and Hannibal muffled himself up in the blanket even more. They were lucky to get a tent for a good price, two sleeping bags they could take turns in, a warm blanket and a few pieces of a mess kit. This was their fifth day in the woods and they had not been in need of anything else yet. Well, the cold weather was annoying, and during the freezing dawn Hannibal was willing to admit it. The winter was still in command up here in the north and they did not have very warm clothes. Especially Face suffered. He was already known as a cold-hater in Vietnam.

And what about their pilot? How would Murdock react to the local climate? Hannibal could understand that the skinny Texan was wearing his flight jacket all the time he was flying. Though the jungle was plagued by the sticky heat, it was cold up there in the chopper. However, Murdock rarely took his leather cover off even on the ground. That crazy man could easily march through the bush still wearing his bomber jacket for all the tropical day. But he probably would not care about the cold weather, enjoying the fun of camping in the wild. Except that Murdock was gone.

Was he still in 'Nam? If yes, Hannibal was increasingly worried about the pilot's mental state and how he would manage their disappearance. It was true that his psychotic fluctuations had improved despite the nervous breakdown he had experienced during one of his tours, but it was because he had the Team around. No, not the Team, Hannibal corrected himself. He had Face. The two of them buoyed each other up any time when everything went down. Face was with them now, but Murdock was still alone. That could have brought him back to his knees. Hannibal tried to hope it would not happen. Because in the current situation, he had no chance to find out where their pilot was, let alone be able to help him.

The sky turned pink in the east and the fading dark pulled the Colonel out of his head. He stood up, stretched the muscles to put his numb body in motion and reached out for an old small pot. He poured water into it, added some coffee and set it on the fire. It would be ready when BA and Face awoke. Hannibal was aware he would't be able to get his blonde lieutenant out of the tent without his morning coffee. He had already found this out in Vietnam. They had had a problem to kick Face out of the bunk at the base every morning, and even in the jungle, that blue-eyed kid had started his every day with a tin mug of strong black coffee, if they had any.

Simultaneously with coffee, Hannibal began to prepare oatmeal in the other battered camp pot. He found two remaining apples, and thanking the farmer for his gift cut them into pieces. They had gotten some fruit on the last farm where they had been helping with cattle care for a few days. It was fun to watch the both young city boys trying to milk a cow. An even better show was Face trying to keep his hands clean while he had been mucking. He had nearly managed to stay spotless until one of the cows decided she did not like the lieutenant's company and kicked him so hard he fell right into a cowpat. A pretty ample cowpat. It had been the first time since their arrest when he and BA laughed honestly.

Hannibal was still grinning at this memory.

"Wakey, wakey, boys!" He called cheerfully as he stuck his head into the small tent. There was a disapproving growl from both sleeping bags, and while BA emerged from one, the other showed no signs of life.

Hannibal waited for the sergeant to return from his morning hygiene routine at a nearby stream, then looked into the tent once more.

"Wake up, Lieutenant!" He ordered. The growl sounded louder and more aggressive this time. "Get out of that sleeping bag or I'll drag you out of it!"

Finally, the cocooned lump moved and there was a ruffled blond head that focused its dark blue eyes angrily at the Colonel.

"Could you ever do me a favor, Hannibal, and let me kindly get some sleep?!"

"You got the first watch, Face. It gave you enough time to sleep."

"Enough! You kidding? I haven't slept enough for a couple of weeks! Trying to sleep in this micro tent where I choke on heat the first part of night and the second part shiver with cold, lying on hard stones and sniffing my own body that no longer knows what a hot shower is, let alone soap. And when I finally fall asleep, you shove your damn head in here with that shark smile and haul me out again. And why? Just to sit on my ass and do nothing all day. I have had enough of this!"

"Would you rather be in prison?" Hannibal asked with complete calm.

"No! But… what’s the point, Hannibal? Are we going to bury ourselves somewhere in the woods for the rest of our lives like some fucking rabbits?"

"Actually, the rabbits don't live in the woods."

Face stared at him. "Don't change the subject!"

Hannibal sighed loudly and climbed into the tent. He sat down beside the lieutenant, looking patiently at him.

"If you have a better idea of getting out of Lynch's sight, I'd like to hear it."

For a moment he saw a glow of anger in those normaly charming eyes before all rage vanished as if someone waved a magic wand. Face bowed his head and shook it slightly. Hannibal squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

"Trust me, if I knew of a better solution, I wouldn't keep us here in the middle of nowhere. After all the fun in the jungle, each of us deserves something better but we have no other option yet. In a few days we'll move somewhere else and maybe we'll be able to land on a farm for a week again. In the meantime, we must be grateful we're still free men."

"I know. I just… I'm worried. And this running from place to place and doing nothing - it ain't going to calm me."

"Are you afraid Lynch will find us? That's not going to happen, kid. I won't allow that."

"Don't think Lynch would ask for your permission. But no, it's not on my mind," Face sneered but his mouth was back in the worried line in a second.

"You miss Murdock?"

Face raised his head and looked at Hannibal in surprise. When he saw the same concern in his eyes that he felt himself, he relaxed a little and nodded.

"I'm worried about him," he admitted. "We dragged him out of his darkness and I know he was doing fine but… he wasn't exactly fine. And now he's left alone… how do we find him, Hannibal? How will we know he's alive? What if something happens to him? What if…"

"Nothing will happen to him, Face. Not even the whole damn North Vietnam can't stop that crazy man. And when he returns to the World, he'll find us. He always did in the boonies."

"But there, he always had an approximate coordinates and his crew beside him," Face said. "Here, he'll have nothing. If Lynch can't find us, Murdock can't either. When Murdock finds us, Lynch will do it too."

Hannibal knew his lieutenant was right, but he refused to admit it. He was absolutely sure that their pilot would do everything to find them but he would also be damned careful not to bring the police to them. The main question was where Murdock was right now. And in what condition.

As if reading Hannibal's thoughts, Face sighed heavily. "And if he breaks down again…"

"If he does, the doctors put him together. I believe he's stronger than he looks. Must be, otherwise they would have sent him to the madhouse long ago."

Face did not seem to be much more convinced than he was before, yet he remained silent. He referred to their pilot's poor mental health, but had felt himself as near a breakdown in the last few weeks and he missed the presence of his closest friend pretty bad. In Vietnam he used to be a constant Murdock supporter, partly because he could find some comfort and sympathy in this acting when he felt miserable himself. And now, only God knew where Murdock was.

Of course, he had Hannibal and BA around and he was grateful for that but… without their pilot, the Team was incomplete and they all felt it. Murdock might fray their nerves by singing and jabbering all day, drive them crazy with all those jokes and pranks, startle them in the middle of the night with a frightened scream, or scare them to death by his aerobatics, but he belonged to them.

At first, Face had been glad that Murdock stayed free, because he just brought them to Hanoi, nothing else. He wasn't there when they robbed the bank. But finally, he felt it might be better for him if he was accused with them. At least he would stay with them and… _No, you shouldn't think like that,_ he snapped at himself. Hannibal was right, they would definitely find a way to put their little Team together. And before that happens, maybe all this miserable situation would turn for the better. He did not believe it much, but he had to hope for something.

Face peered out of the tent. The morning mist rose from the cold ground and from the east, the bright golden glow broke through the trees. The sky seemed to be clear. Face shook with cold and breathed out a misty cloud. He pulled his head back just to put on his second sweater, and with some stiff movements he climbed out of the tent. The mornings like this were unpleasantly cold but at least it was not raining and his numb body would warm up soon.

An almost unrecognizable smile swirled over his face as the smell of strong coffee wafted through the fresh air. He headed for the fire ring where BA was already eating the apple oatmeal. With a plastic mug filled with murderous black fluid, Face sat beside him and stretched his legs closer to the fire. This goddamn camp was not the Hilton but still it was better than being in a jail.


	3. Chapter 3

Los Angeles, August 1972

… white… so sterile and poisonous white all around… I can't move… I'm sitting on a soft padded ground leaning against a soft padded wall and wanting to shout down everything that yells at me so terrible and loudly… wanna cover my ears with my hands but I can't. My hands… can't move them… tight, it's too tight… where's everyone? Where are you? You promised… no… please, no this… I don't want… don't want more drugs. Don't want any shot, no more! Please… PLEASE!

_Please no! No more! I can't stand it!_

_I crouched behind the mound of dirt, clutching my ears, screaming inside my head. My effort wasn't enough, I could still hear people yelling and M-16 barking._

_The pilot of our Slick was shot right in front of my eyes during the night flight, and despite all my efforts to keep the baby in the sky, we went down. I spent a very bad night in the trenches, and the day hadn't seemed to be much better. I was only a Co-pilot, but now I took responsibility for the crew and needed to get them to the nearest LZ. We joined an infantry squad heading that way. Everything was fine until we reached this ruined village. At first glance it looked like any other village, but it was full of people who weren't on our side. VC! The word rang out as soon as one of the grunts fell dead to the ground. At that moment my closest surroundings turned into hell. I couldn't keep up with only my Smith & Wesson. Like a Huey pilot, I had nothing else with me._

_"Hey, Captain! It's over. You can get up."_

_I stared at the sergeant who towered above me with a confident smile and for a second I didn't understand what he was telling me. He signaled to take my hands off my ears and when I did, he repeated his sentence. I rose slowly._

_"How long have you been here, sir?" He asked and his 'sir' sounded somewhat forced._

_"Two months."_

_"First time in the bush?" he sneered._

_"No. First time on the ground," I replied pretending not to see his contempt._

_He patted my shoulder and smiled a little more honestly. "I experienced a worse launch than this. A few more firefights and you get used to it. Everybody gets used to it.” He didn't wait for my response. Turning around he headed for his friends who walked past a nearby hut laughing out loud._

_Sure, I knew people became apathetic after weeks in true hell. We had been transporting boys who had their guts all over the chopper floor and they were still trying to keep them inside their bodies with their own hands. I almost screamed with them my first days when I saw all the bleeding kids behind my seat. Then I became numb. Hardened. But getting used to it… how could anyone get used to something like this, for God sake?_

_I brushed off my pants and slowly followed the sergeant's group. I was looking around to find Davis or Johnson from my crew when an old villager rushed out of a hut just a few yards away. He was waving at us with his hand covered in blood and shouting. My five-member escort stopped and we all stared at the tiny man for a few seconds. He held out his hands apparently begging for help._

_'Hell, we should do something before he bleeds to death. His arm looks pretty bad and-'_

_My thoughts were interrupted by the movement I caught by peripheral vision. I saw the sergeant lifted up his M-16 and a set of shots cut off the man's yelling before I could realize what was going to happen. Unable to look away, I watched in horror as the bullets passed through that thin flesh as if no living person was under the ragged clothes. That sharp spate threw him back to the hut where he collapsed limply to the ground. I wasn't able to move, just stood there staring at the bloody thing that had been a breathing man a minute ago. Why? He was wounded and unarmed. Was this necessary?_

_I felt someone touching my shoulder and turned my head stiffly. There was no sign of regret or remorse in the sergeant's eyes._

_"Never trust any slant you meet in the boonies, Captain. They're fucking bastards, you know. Will take you down before you realize they're pulling your leg."_

_Was he right? How the hell could he be so sure? This seemed more like an execution without a trial… this was-_

… am I still in the boonies? I don't recognize any face that moves around me. Where am I? Who can I trust? Is anyone here? Why can't I move? Why… I'm staring at a stranger in a white coat who's bending over to me telling me something. I don't understand him. But I should, he's not a Vietnamese. He even speaks English… but I'm unable to perceive him. As if I had my mind shrouded in a thick impenetrable fog. Maybe my head got stuck in a helmet. In a tight helicopter helmet that I can't take off and it's squeezing my brain, choking my mind… I don't know anyone here. Don't recognize anybody. I'd give anything to see at least one familiar face. Anything to anybody, who'd tell me where I am and what I'm doin' here and especially whom I can trust.

Face, why did you leave me? BA, I don't hear your threats! Hannibal, where did you take your Team? Why did you leave me behind?

No, it wasn't Hannibal… Morrison… wrong… there was something wrong with Morrison… Hanoi… the bank… no… NO! Leave me alone, I'm starting to remember! I need to remember, I need… I wanna know where my friends are! I wanna know why-

_…"Why ya still piss me off, Stevenson? Why don't ya leave me alone and shut your fuckin' mouth up before I blow it off with that fuckin' head of yours!"_

_With the increasing tension, I stared at the corporal who was turning red with rage as he yelled at the private sitting a few yards away. We were only a short distance from our destination and the sergeant announced a break. I sat with guys from my crew on a fallen trunk when a slanging match broke out near us._

_"So you would like to shoot me, Cinderella? Don't make me laugh, I know you don't have the balls to do it," the very young private laughed amusedly and I hoped he'd estimated his friend well. They had to be kidding. Marines were a weird bunch of toughs with an even more weird sense of humor. Johnson looked at me, his eyes uncertain and alarmed, and I sent him back a similar look. But I remained silent. We didn't belong among these guys, it was safer to keep our mouth shut. For once, I managed to do it. I had to be really scared._

_"I'll riddle your ass with bullets, you asshole! For that fuckin' nickname and for everythin' else!"_

_I still hoped they were teasing each other, but the corporal suddenly reached for his gun and pointed it at the private. God, that couldn't be joke anymore! No one was ever aiming at somebody just for fun, not even grunts! Where the hell was the sergeant, shouldn't he do something? This was his team, his men, he shouldn't let-_

_My thought was cut off by a loud crack._

_The private stood still for a moment as if he didn't realize that a blood red rose was coming into bloom on his stomach. Then he bent his head touching lightly the blood seeping through the olive green shirt and went down to his knees. The corporal stared at him, probably unable to believe what he had just done. Nobody moved, we all were nailed to the ground as if time had froze. The bleeding man broke free from the stillness like the first and fell into the grass. The corporal turned his back on him indifferently and walked away. I heard the sergeant's yell but his voice was lost in another loud shot. I watched in horror as the corporal hit the ground too._

_That little portion of food I ate a while ago swung in my stomach and all my guts seemed to have done a first-class loop. I slipped down from the trunk with a loud hiccup and fell to my knees vomiting. I felt terribly sick. Couldn't believe what I had just seen, but the screams and the desperate death rattle of the poor private gave me no doubt. The corporal shot his friend and then himself without a wink. Suddenly my vision went black and everything sounded hollow and unreal. I felt like I was sinking into an empty barrel. For a few seconds I was worried I would faceplant into my undigested lunch. My elbows buckled but instead of collapsing I felt someone's hands support me. My stomach twisted again but this time I threw up only a yellow foamy matter._

_I took several deep breaths in an effort to calm my rebellious guts and lifted my head slowly. My gaze met Johnson's good-natured eyes. He was also shaken but not as much as I was. Unlike me, he had been here for almost a year and seen lots of shit already. His smile was encouraging when he offered me a hand. I grasped it and stood up with his help._

_“Baptism by fire, Captain. Welcome to the real jungle," he murmured._

_I spat a clot of sticky saliva and suddenly there was a canteen before my nose. First I rinsed my mouth out before the warm water flooded my throat and washed away the ugly acidic taste. And that was the moment I decided not to let my crew go down and get stuck in the bush again. Even if I had to keep the bird in the air with only the power of my own will, I would do it. I didn't want to end up in this hell again. Ever…_

How terribly naive I was then… but who wasn't?

Everyone goes to war with a funny naivety. We all dream of some heroism, suppression of evil and famous victory… until we experience the reality. And either absorb it and survive, or go crazy…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this chapter, I read The Proud Bastards by E. Michael Helms and got some inspiration from his frightening memoirs. It was impossible to read that book and not to be affected by it.
> 
> The illustration was originally drawn for Inktober - day eight: frail.  
If you want to see more my Inktober drawings (all based on the A-Team, of course), find DrimmsyDra's gallery on Facebook or DeviantArt.


	4. Chapter 4

Alaska, December 1972

Hannibal shook the snow off his jacket and stamped his feet several times to clean his boots. Then he opened the door and entered a pleasantly heated cabin. His eyes ran quickly over the room; the atmosphere wasn't as warm, the mood of his little team was at a freezing point.

Face sat huddled in a large armchair in front of the fireplace, staring absently at the flames. BA dismantled the old radio on the dining table. He had promised to repair it and now he was frowning and brooding like the sky before a storm. Looking at them, Hannibal wasn't sure he was bringing good news or bad news. In any case, something had to be done to encourage his two young men.

"Look what I got for us," he interrupted a soft crackle of fire and placed a bulky bag beside BA's radio. Some snow fell down over the sergeant's tools.

"Hey man, watch what you doin'," BA grumbled peering at the colonel with his narrowed eyes.

"This will bring a smile to your face, Sergeant," Hannibal reassured him cheerfully. Face got up from his throne and sauntered to the table. He looked into the bag with fake curiosity then raised his eyebrow in a silent question.

"A turkey!" Hannibal grinned, squeezing the lieutenant's shoulder. "We'll have a real holiday dinner!"

"Are you serious?" Face looked at him with such a skeptical expression that Hannibal had to struggle to keep his smile.

"Of course. We missed Thanksgiving, let's enjoy Christmas at least!"

"And who's going to cook this thing?" With another grimace the lieutenant poked the dead bird lying on the table. "Besides, it's not much bigger than a chicken. Where did you buy it, in a children's department?"

"We can't afford a bigger turkey, Lieutenant. I'm glad I got this one, you could appreciate it. And for your information, my great-grandmother won the neighborhood Christmas competition with her fabled chestnut turkey several times. I'll cook it, the Smiths have it in their genes."

"Thanks for this introduction into your family history. I couldn't live without it," Face grumbled leaving the room with no other word.

Hannibal looked at him in disappointment. He hoped to make at least a small smile on the kid's face, but he was wrong. Face hadn't been smiling since they arrived in Alaska. In addition he had roused them at night for over two weeks by whining and murmuring from his sleep, or thrashing himself on the bed as if struggling for life in a bad dream. Which apparently he was doing, as Hannibal thought. After all they went through the nightmares did not avoid anyone of them, but they seemed to be plaguing Face the most. And the kid was too proud to talk about his bad condition. Hannibal decided it was time to distract him.

"It's gettin' worse with him," BA muttered thinking the same thoughts as Hannibal was.

"Yeah I know. And I have no idea how to get him out of this mood," Hannibal shook his head.

"Never thought I'd say it, but I wish Murdock was here. I know fifteen minutes of his jibber jabber would be enough to thrust this screwdriver into his nose, but that crazy fool could get Faceman back to normal."

Hannibal nodded quietly. The news he was about to tell them at Christmas dinner wasn't the best. Somehow he had to make them take it as it could be far worse. Murdock was alive and back in the States. That's the good thing. The bad one, though… Hannibal sighed. He wished he had at least one cigar on hand to help him calm down and settle his thoughts.

As he noticed that BA was watching him, he began to take the groceries out of the bag.

***

Hannibal solemnly rose a glass of not very good wine.

"Gentlemen, I know you would imagine Christmas holidays differently…" he overheard Face's growl and tactfully continued, "but it's still better than if we had only bread and water in a jail. So I propose a toast to our Team and to freedom. And I hope our situation will be better next year."

"That's right, man," BA nodded, raising his glass of milk. They both looked at Face who was frowning and digging a crack in the wooden table with his fingernail. When he did not notice them waiting, the sergeant shoved him with his elbow and almost caused Face to fall from his chair.

Outraged, the lieutenant raised his head and met with BA's threatening look. He finally sighed and picked up his glass, annoyed. "Amen," he murmured.

"Merry Christmas, kids," Hannibal said bidding them to eat.

It wasn't a sumptuous dinner. Undersized turkey without stuffing that even Hannibal didn't know how to make, mashed potatoes and some vegetables. The frozen apple pie would certainly not win the prize for the best dessert, but Hannibal was sure that adding a little whipped cream would make it good.

They ate in silence, each of them immersed in his thoughts and memories of the previous year. Although the war was raging and an unexpected storm had turned the base camp and the surrounding jungle into a large muddy puddle, they spent the last Christmas far happier. The whole team was together with Ray Brenner, their fourth member, and with Murdock who wasn't officially one of them, but Hannibal considered him so loyal that he automatically counted on him. They all celebrated together in Hannibal's tent.

Face recalled Murdock's unique version of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, which he recited with such a passion and perfect pantomimic portrayal that even BA laughed, and for once left the pilot's craziness without a rough response. At that time, Face really believed that even in war life can be fine if you have some good friends along with you. But now… two of them were missing. Ray was lucky to be assigned to a different mission by the time they were sent to Hanoi. If he had gone with them, he would have been sitting at this table too. And Murdock… The meat got bitter in Face's mouth as his thoughts wandered to where the pilot was right now and who he was spending Christmas with. Maybe his situation was even worse. He, Hannibal and BA at least had one another.

With those grim thoughts, he had just been stabbing his meal with a fork for several minutes. Hannibal noticed it and sighed again. He put down his own knife and fork, clearing his throat.

"Well, I wanted to wait until after dinner but as I can see your enthusiasm for food, there's nothing to wait for."

They both looked up at him with a questioning look.

"I have a little gift for you two and don't want to put it off till the morning."

"Hannibal, you told us that nothin' like gifts…" BA couldn't finish his sentence. The Colonel lifted his hand to interrupt him.

"It's not quite a Christmas gift, Sergeant. I have a message from Ray."

There was a sharp jangle as Face dropped his fork.

"When did you speak to him? How? Where is he?"

"I called him when I was in town yesterday."

"Hannibal, you sure it was a good idea?" BA wrinkled his nose. When he himself wanted to call his own momma to assure her he was okay and would not be alone for the holidays, the colonel forbade him.

"I have a way to contact him safely. We just can't do it too often. Anyway, he's back in the World." He paused, pleased to see some relief in both stunned faces. They were happy for Ray. He was their friend and it was good to hear he was fine. Hannibal took a deep breath before talking about a less pleasant matter. "And I got news about Murdock from him."

Both pairs of wide eyes stared at him eagerly. Neither of them could tell from the colonel's voice whether it was good or bad news, and hope and terror hung in the air at the same time.

"Murdock is back in the World too. Alive, and physically healthy," he started carefully.

"I knew that crazy fool is immortal!" BA snorted with a slight smile. However, Face continued to drill into Hannibal with a suspicious look.

"But?" The young man said, trying to hide the frightened tone in his voice. He sensed something was wrong. He didn't know what but was sure Hannibal's news wasn't as good as it seemed.

"He's in LA. The Veteran Hospital in Westwood."

"What ward?" Face asked, though he was sure he knew the answer. Even BA had an idea, because his smile suddenly faded.

"A psych ward," Hannibal replied confirming their assumption.

"That fool really went crazy?"

"How… how is he, Hannibal?" Face pressed his palm nervously against his stomach which was in knots with concern. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Not so good, I guess. When Ray managed to find out where Murdock had been taken, he went to visit him, hoping the captain might have some informations about us. They never let Ray see him. He said Murdock suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and if he wasn't sedated he was unmanageable."

Hannibal didn't have to say more. All of them remembered Murdock's hysterical fits that he had suffered for some time. He could keep himself in control only thanks to their help. But now he was all alone.

"We must go there. Whether Lynch is in our way or not, we can't leave him alone!" Face's voice was resolute and adamant.

"I expected you to say that, Lieutenant. And I've been thinking about it myself."

"You have a plan, Hannibal?" BA asked with indifference, but was watching the colonel impatiently.

"I think we should stay here until the end of the year and then-"

"We should stay here? Hannibal, I don't want to be here for one more day, especially when I finally know where Murdock is! Can you imagine how he must feel? Do you remember how bad he was doing in 'Nam? The only time he'd kept his mind sane was in the air and I doubt they'd let him fly there!"

"I think they know what to do with him, Face."

"Oh, for sure! He is filled with sedatives and tied up somewhere in a padded room. You know him, this won't help! He will defend himself and who knows what he can do to get out of there! We must go to LA immediately!"

Face jumped off his chair as if he were about to hit the road right now. Hannibal's expression turned stern as he snapped at him. "Sit down, Lieutenant! Or I'll drag you out and cool your hot head in the snow. Murdock is definitely in good hands, the doctors won't let him do anything to himself, they will watch over him. And we can't just burst in there like a storm! We have to plan the trip properly. It will take us some time to get to California without leaving any traces but we won't help him much if we got ourselves caught on our way to him. And even then, we'll have to be damned careful, because it's quite possible that Lynch has his men there. Ray certainly wasn't the only one who thought we might try to contact our pilot."

Face stood still, breathing rapidly, looking like thunder. BA grabbed him by the arm. He tried to wrench his hand free but the sergeant tightened his grip forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Hannibal's right, man. First, we hafta-"

"He saved your life, BA! Saved all of us! He risked his neck at least once for each of us, tried to get us out of the bush. Don't you think he deserves the same favor from us now?!" Face became nearly hysterical. He yanked his hand out of BA's grip and Hannibal thought for a moment he was going to punch the big sergeant. But BA threw himself out of the chair, grabbed the lieutenant more tightly and rose his right hand to strike.

"Cool it, both of you!" Hannibal snapped in a sharp authoritative voice. He hadn't had to yell at any of his team members for a long time but if he hadn't intervened, he would have probably had to pick up pieces of his lieutenant from the floor and Face would retreat behind his defensive walls even more.

"Sergeant, let him go. And you control your temper, Lieutenant or I seriously will let him knock some sense into your head. I also don't like wasting time here but we can't just jump to our feet and fly to LA, you know that. We'll sit tomorrow and think everything through together and I promise we will take off as soon as possible. Can this calm you down? Because if not, I'll have to lock you in the bedroom for the night."

Face kept casting his angry glances to him until Hannibal's steely eyes forced him to bow his head.

"All right, Colonel, whatever you want," he murmured. It didn't sound convincing but Hannibal was sure the lieutenant had accepted his words. The kid just needed a good long sleep to clear his head and then he would finally acknowledged that there was no other way. Hannibal smiled to himself. He loved it when a plan came together and now they had a target to go to. Just do not act rashly and proceed as cautiously as ever. They can do it. They were the Alpha, the best team that served in Vietnam.


	5. Chapter 5

Los Angeles, December 1972

I'm sitting on the bed in my room, staring at the wall. There's nothing interesting to see, it's just the place where my eyes turned when I sat down. There's not much to see at all. And every day is the same. Lonely and empty.

I vaguely remember that once very long ago my life wasn't like this. I used to be different. I know I could laugh. I sang and howled… where did it go? Who did I become? Or maybe this is my real self and before was just a dream… the dreams are a big part of my current life. I wish they weren't! Every night scares me to death. If the days are empty, the nights are crowded with things lurking in the corners and creeping out with the dark. If the days are lonely, then the nights are… it's like being in the universe all alone with only dead bodies floating around you. No, that's wrong. The dead bodies should be dead. But these ain't dead. They are too alive…

But I don't want to think about what will come at night. It's only morning, the night is far away. A nurse came here with my medication a while ago. I have been able to pretend I swallow the pills for almost a month. I always hide them under my tongue, and when the nurse leaves, I spit them out. Put them in the mattress on my bed. I'll be able to open a drugstore soon.

I don't know why I'm doing this. Those pills can dull me, throw me into a merciful fog where there is nothing. Vague and silent Nothing covering the huge terrible emptiness that crushes me day by day. Then the White Dogs try to make Something out of that Nothing – they force me to go to the big garden or the common room. They drag me to the therapy sessions… but what for? I have no reason to be normal again. I have no idea what it means to be normal, anyway. Whatever it is, I can get by without it. After all, that's what is expected, isn't it? Big strong boy like HM Murdock can get by, absolutely and totally without everything. You hear us, muchacho? Just for fun, we will take your mother away from you, you don't need her, you have a father. Is your father an aggressive drunk? Never mind, it will be a good lesson for you, boy. And what if you find out in your teens you feel some things differently? That you feel different enough to fall in love with a U. S. Air Force pilot in your first serious job? Someone from your Squadron? Hell yeah, maybe you should get out of there before they realize you might be a fucking faggot. What about Vietnam? A great choice, we can take away everyone who might be important to you… and what if your best friend…

"Mr. Murdock, would you like to go to the common room with me? There's a special Christmas program, you might like it."

My gloomy thoughts are interrupted by the voice of a long-legged blond nurse. Face would like her, she is exactly the type he would pay attention to. Face… oh… his face emerges from the void of the white wall in front of my eyes immediately and I almost forget the presence of the nurse.

"So what do you think, Mr. Murdock? You really don't want to sit here alone for Christmas, do you?"

I'm looking at her, shaking my head. That's exactly what I want to do. Just sit here alone. Because there's no point in getting close to someone else. Something will take that person away from me again, it always does.

The nurse tries to ask once more, just to make sure, but I don't pay any attention and she leaves my room disappointed.

This time I choose a window instead of the wall for observation. It's barred and not exactly the ideal view, but I can see a little spot of blue sky. It reminds me how much I miss it. My quiet blue kingdom was also taken from me. It seems I will never fly again in my life. But why should I? Where would I fly to?

I shake my head, my eyes sliding down to the crumpled torn newspaper. I picked it up in the garden after a windy autumn night. Just like a million times before, I take the paper in my hand and stare at the black and white photo printed over half of the page. They didn't choose a very good picture. In it, Faceman doesn't live up to his reputation. And BA… oh Lord! I would be startled if I met him looking like that somewhere at night. But maybe that's why they chose this picture. To scare people. Make them think that the A-team is the biggest evil they can encounter. The Special Forces squad on the run… I'm glad they escaped. Oh my God, I'm so glad. These guys are the last ones who deserve to be behind bars.

Sure, it was Hannibal who got them out. The Colonel always has a plan for everything. The Colonel is…

I throw the paper angrily into the corner of my room. They have been on the run for so many months and I have had no message from them. Not a single word telling me they're okay. No sign they are still alive… if I hadn't found this damn newspaper, I'd have thought they were still in jail. Did they forget me? No, certainly not. They are wanted criminals, they can't just come here to visit a madman. They probably don't know where I am, anyway. They may think I'm still in Country. Or that it's me who is leaving them behind because I'm not looking for them. I could always find them. No matter where Charlie chased them, I always found them. But it means it's me who has betrayed them… they are waiting for me to appear with my chopper, aren't they? But as much as I want to, I can't… I… I can't do it like Hannibal. Only me by myself… or can I? Maybe I can. Will think it over. I have to find them, we are a Team. They kept telling me I belonged to them. And the only reason they're not here yet is because they're waiting for me to come… I just… I have to… I MUST!


	6. Chapter 6

Los Angeles, March 1973

Face read the name tag on the woman's chest and put on his dazzling smile.

"Hello, Miss Blake. I'm Christopher Green and I came to visit Mr. Murdock." The false name slipped out of his mouth without a blink.

"Oh… You know, Mr. Murdock is not in a condition to receive guests." The tall curly haired nurse shook her head and smiled apologetically at the handsome blond man.

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that. I traveled the whole way from the east coast to see my cousin."

"Mr. Murdock is your cousin?"

"Yes. Well, we are distant relatives, but we used to play a lot with each other in our childhood. Before my parents moved out. You know, a better job and a large family house by the lake in a lovely suburb… I cried for six months before I got used to a new school and made some new friends. Moving can be really hard for a little boy." Face paused, his expression lost in sad melancholy. He was always a great liar and when he saw the nurse's compassionate face, he smiled to himself.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Green. Maybe I could let you see him for a few minutes. But I'm not sure he will recognize you. Your cousin is going through a very severe post-traumatic stress disorder and he unfortunately spends most of the time under sedation. Follow me, Mr. Green, I'll take you to him."

Face followed her with hidden concern. They had been in Los Angeles for less than a month and it was still very dangerous to show up in public, but Hannibal was no longer able to hold him back. So while the colonel was patrolling with BA around the hospital area, Face was eager to enter the psychiatric ward.

He couldn't even tell how much he was looking forward to seeing his friend. But… Murdock had already been driven to a real psychological breakdown in Vietnam. They were trying to keep him as sane as possible, Face, especially, could take the lion's share of the credit for the fact that the pilot was still able to work. But now, after all he had just heard, he was getting nervous.

As the nurse pointed to one of the many doors, he took a breath and peered into the small window with his hand pressed against his stomach.

"Oh Murdock, not this please," he whispered softly, his face tense and full of sadness. The pilot sat in a corner of the padded room tied in a straitjacket staring absently at the floor.

"Is he… is this really necessary?" He turned to Miss Blake hoping it was just a sudden emergency. But the nurse nodded sadly.

"We often have a problem keeping Mr. Murdock under control. When he came to our hospital, he was nearly unmanageable. After several weeks, he suddenly calmed down and seemed to get a little better. But then he managed to escape. We caught him only because he was almost hit by a car on the street. We found out he hadn't been taking his medication. Instead of swallowing the pills, he was hiding them in his room. It was our fault, I'm sorry. So he is under strict supervision now. Fortunately, he's not usually aggressive as he was in the early days, but he still suffers from very anxious and hysterical states, and his psychiatrist Dr. Schwartz is afraid he could hurt himself."

"And can I… can I go in?"

The nurse hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Maybe he won't realize you're there but if he goes into hysterics, call me. I'll be waiting right here." With these words she opened the door and let him into the room. Face thanked her and walked in.

"Hi Murdock," he greeted his friend cheerfully, but Murdock showed no sign of hearing him. He slowly walked closer and crouched beside him.

"Murdock, can you hear me?"

Still no reaction, the pilot's mind seemed to be miles away.

"What have they done to you?" He sighed sliding heavily into a sitting position. He leaned against the wall and stared unhappily at his friend. Face studied his dishevelled hair, his unhealthy pale skin, and the dark circles under his eyes. Under the same eyes which had sparked so vividly before. But now they were blindly staring into space without any spark.

Face didn't know what to do. He couldn't even hold his friend's hand, because they were both tied in the white straitjacket.

He recalled the firm grip he felt when he shook Murdock's hand for the first time and automatically smiled at the warm memory.

_"Lieutenant Templeton Peck," he said, holding out his hand to the lanky brown-haired Captain. The pilot glanced down at it and pumped it wildly with a big grin._

_"Howdy, muchacho! I'm the pilot of that bird over there, HM Murdock," he drawled pointing over his shoulder at the Huey helicopter._

_"Oh, good. Should I call you HM? Or Captain?"_

_"Nah, just Murdock," the pilot shook his head._

_"Murdock?"_

_"Yeah. Just Murdock."_

_"Okay, just Murdock. What does HM mean, anyway?" he was curious. That southern guy seemed to find fun in everything. And really, he wasn't disappointed._

_"You're really a rookie," Murdock grinned. "Howlin' Mad. That's what I am."_

_"Oh, sure. And I can find it on the name list just right after Silent Fool, right?"_

_"No. Just before it. I'm always on the top."_

_The Lieutenant nodded, partly amused, partly confused._

_"They say you were the only one from your platoon to survive the massacre near Ben Hai," Murdock took an inquisitive look assessing his military skills._

_"I was lucky," Face shrugged modestly, as if it were nothing. He didn't want to remember that terrible day. Since the moment he got off the plane in this damn country, the army seemed to have thrown him right into the war machine running at maximum revs and forgot to show him where the emergency brakes were._

_"Okay. Hold onto it. Don't wanna see no jigsaw made of ya in my chopper. I hate rookies bleeding under the pedals."_

_He conjured another wide smile and Lieutenant Peck had to smile in return. This crazy guy had a weird charm inside him that made you grin from ear to ear, even if he only looked at you._

But right now the same crazy guy looked like a piece of overcooked vegetable.

"Murdock, I came to see you. I never forgot what I promised you. You hear me, buddy?"

But the pilot seemed unable to hear. Face leaned closer and began to whisper in his ear so that only Murdock could hear it. "Listen, I couldn't come earlier, we ain't in a very good situation right now. We managed to escape, but the military police are still after us and Hannibal keeps us on a short leash. Plus, we didn't know what happened to you. You know… we care about you, miss you in the Team. You should see BA, he's even more cranky than ever. I would say that it is because he has no one to vent his anger on. Well, not that that's why we'd miss you, but… you know what I mean."

Still no response. Face sighed.

"Murdock… I just… if I can do something for you-"

The pilot finally moved and slowly turned his head toward him. Face wasn't sure if he was really seeing him, or just staring through him at something that only he could see.

"Is it really you or are you just another painful projection inside my head?" Murdock breathed out softly.

"It's me!"

The pilot's eyes focused on him and finally a spark of life flashed in them.

"Faceman!"

"Come here, buddy!" Face laughed and hugged his friend warmly. Unable to give him a hug back with his tied hands, Murdock at least pressed firmly against him and buried his face in his hair.

"Take me out of here, Face. Please, just take me out of here!" He whispered desperately into Face's ear.

"Murdock, I'd love to, but… you're the only one of us who has a real roof over your head every night. Even Hannibal isn't sure what the next day will bring and I have nowhere to take you. Maybe in a few weeks, but now-"

"No, you don't get it. I… I can't stay here. This place… look what they've done to me!" Murdock pushed away from him, flapping around like a fish out of water.

"Well… the nurse who let me in said you were out of control. Murdock, what happened? Why do you have to be locked up here?"

The pilot stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing very loudly, hysterically. Face pulled away inadvertently, looking at him in surprise. He had experienced Murdock in his best craziest days, had experienced him in the worst and darkest ones too, but had never seen him like this before. Right here, wearing the straitjacket and with mad shrieks streaming from his mouth, he looked really insane.

Before Face could stop him or try to calm him down somehow, the door burst open and Nurse Blake appeared.

"Mr. Green, I have to ask you to leave. Mr. Murdock is… you can see it yourself!"

"But I did nothing… I was just…" Face was still perplexed, kept staring at his best friend. He couldn't believe the terrible transformation that had taken place in the legendary Huey pilot. Huge tears were now rolling down Murdock's cheeks, yet he continued to laugh uncontrollably.

"Mr. Green, please!"

"Yes, I'm sorry, I… Murdock, I'll come to visit you again, can you hear me?" Face turned back in the doorway, but Murdock seemed unaware. Apparently he couldn't even hear him above his mad laughter. Shaken by what he saw Face left the padded room.

"Is he always like that?" He asked the nurse, who quickly slammed the door behind him. She looked at him with a sad nod.

"Yes. Screaming, laughing, apathy. Mr. Murdock must have experienced really terrible things."

"Did he tell any of what happened to him in Vietnam?"

"No. Everything we know is just from the records supplied by his commanding officer and the previous hospital, and the notes aren't very detailed. If he has a light moment and talks, his speech usually doesn't make much sense. Now, excuse me. I will have to give him another shot, otherwise he will not calm today. It was a mistake to let you in, I'm sorry. Please go."

Despite what the nurse just said, she smiled sympathetically at him and disappeared outside the door of the padded room. Face quickly turned away. He didn't want to watch through the door window as that nice woman was sending his friend by injection into the realm of mindless dreams. He walked down the corridor taking an oath that he would come back here as soon as possible and get the pilot out for at least a few days. He had no doubt that Murdock had all the medical care he needed, but he wasn't sure if it was sufficient in this case.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by another fanfiction. More information at the end.

** _From Capt. HM Murdock's diary_ **

_Maybe I ask in vain_

_who has my mind_

_when I'm sitting here alone_

_with my head bent down._

_And I keep holding in my hands_

_a silent empty dream_

_that once was dreamed_

_before my ground collapsed._

_I whisper my wish._

_I will look up to you_

_when you lean toward me…_

_… Say more._

_Who am I?_

_And who I used to be?_

_How I flew_

_and shone_

_before the world engulfed me._

_Now I just know these four walls_

_having only you._

_You are everything, you are the biggest gift_

_that was placed into my arms._

_You know who I was._

_You knew my laugh._

_And you don't judge who I became_

_you overlook my every sin._

_I whisper my wish._

_I will look up to you_

_when you lean toward me…_

_… Say more._

_Who am I?_

_And who I used to be?_

_How I flew_

_and shone_

_before the world engulfed me._

_Keep talking_

_'cause time has washed everything away._

_Lead me higher_

_and back._

_I want to wake up._

_You are my light_

_when I wander through eternal darkness_

_raving…_

_You know_

_who I am._

_And who I used to be._

_How I flew_

_and shone_

_before the world engulfed me._

_You are my light…_

Los Angeles, November 1973

I could feel it… a fresh breeze with the salty smell of the ocean. It stroked my forehead and ruffled my hair… I spread my hands and raised my head to face the gentle wind. I could see the depth of the reddish sky, merged with the ocean on the horizon so naturally that it was hard to define the border on a sunny day. But it was clearly visible in the oncoming night. There was the dark deep of the Pacific sprawled under the cope of heaven.

Standing barefoot on a rough rock, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The ocean murmured below me and the wind was relentlessly twining around my body, almost making me feel like I was flying. And I missed flying like hell. The feeling that there was only heaven and air around me, the ground somewhere deep beneath me, clouds like wads of cotton strewn everywhere in that calm blue space… far away from earthly worries, from all the horrors, far away from my own life…

"Murdock! For God's sake, what are you doing there?" Face's voice sounded terrified. I didn't understand why. He wasn't the one standing at the edge of the cliff with a dark grinning depth staring back at him.

I heard him coming from the back terrace of the house, didn't even have to turn around to see those wide blue eyes and his hand pressed against his stomach.

It wasn't clear to me how he managed to move into such a luxurious house on Palos Verdes, but… these things had baffled me since that blond rookie managed to get a Cadillac in the middle of the Vietnamese jungle. Sometimes I think if he hadn't done it, the Colonel would have rejected him on the team back then, but he won respect and an enduring reputation through this artistic act.

He halted a few steps from me, but far enough from the edge and begged.

"Come back, Murdock. You're too close to the edge, you're scaring me."

"Don't worry, Facey. I'm a pilot, I can fly!" I laughed and spread my hands again. Despite the wind I could hear him breathe out sharply.

"You can't fly. Have no plane with you," he said patiently as if he was talking to a small kid. And in his eyes he was probably doing exactly that. I felt him putting his hand on my shoulder and I shook it off. I usually found his touch pleasant, sometimes even needed, but right now… didn't want to go back to the house. I wanted to be outside. Maybe until nightfall. Then, the fear would drive me back to the lighted room, to the safety, but now, now I felt strong and almost happy.

"Leave me alone, I wanna watch!"

He withdrew but did not leave. After a minute he asked.

"What do you see there?"

I inhaled the salty smell and licked my lips. Might just be imagining that, but they tasted salty too.

"I see what I don't have. Flexibility. Freedom."

"But you are free."

"No, I'm not, Face. And you know it very well."

He was silent for a long moment. I might have thought he was gone, but I felt him still behind me.

"Murdock, please get down from there before you lose your balance and fall down."

I laughed.

"Come on, Faceman. I never lose my balance. I can lose everything else, I probably lost my shoes somewhere today, but never my balance. I'm always up there, you know me."

"Yeah, exactly because I know you. Anyway, they are in the closet in the hall."

"Huh?"

"Your sneakers. I put them in the closet in the hall. You can't walk on that expensive carpet in them. You know this place doesn't belong to me."

"Hmmm," I muttered. He could have told me efore so I didn't have to run around barefoot all afternoon. Shifting the weight from one leg to the other I felt my feet were chilled from the cold stones. The rock had to be pleasantly warm in summer, but the sun was no longer so strong in late autumn.

"Face, what do you see?" I asked, because he was still standing near me.

"A fool who doesn't respect life," he replied.

"I respect life. I just don't know if life respects me," I sighed and rather changed the subject. "You know, I'd like to fly again."

"Please, Murdock, remember why you can't."

Another gust of wind brushed against me, giving me goosebumps. I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking. Why hadn't I put on my jacket before I went out? Face didn't hide it anywhere, not like my shoes.

"It's cold here."

"It's even colder down there," Face said softly. "And there's no sun. There is nothing and no one. You would be all alone there."

"I'm alone here too."

"I'm here with you. Please, come to me."

"I don't wanna go where you have to take me back. I just don't want to."

"But we don't have to go today. Nor tomorrow."

I felt my eyes fill with tears. Blinking, I looked at the darkening sky where the first stars began to light up. There weren't many, the light pollution swallowed most of their brightness. But I could see a few of them. They were so beautiful, so distant, so cold…

"Face?"

"I'm here, Murdock."

I turned to him, leaving the sky and the ocean behind me.

"Can you… can you hold me? Warm me up, please. Keep me safe, keep me here!" I begged. Suddenly I was terrified. Not of what can lurk in the dark. What always lurks in the dark when I go to sleep. But scared of getting lost. That I will lose my way forever and stray so far that I won't be able to go back. Have been wandering already…

"Come down here, Murdock," Face said gently holding out his hand. I almost fell into his arms as my knees buckled unexpectedly. He grabbed me firmly, but I could no longer hold myself on my feet and pulled him down. With me in his arms he slumped to the stony ground where he gripped me tightly, pressing my head against his chest. I could hear his heart beating. Strongly, regularly, steadily…

He rubbed my back with his other hand trying to warm me up, stop the tremors of my numb flesh.

"It'll be all right," he said softly in my ear. "You'll see it all get better again. One day you will wake up knowing that everything is as it should be. And you'll be glad you came back. I know it. I promise you."

I wanted to believe him. But he was a con man, wasn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on the story called "Like A Thunderbolt, He Falls" by Karen. It's an amazing and inspirational piece of work, part of a long story.  
You can find it here: https://www.stories.the-ridges.net/ateam.html  
I borrowed the basic idea (ocean, cliff, barefoot Murdock standing on the edge) and part of the conversation, adjusted everything to Murdock's POV and adapted it to my storyline.  
I had no intention of stealing or copying Karen's story. I just needed to get out of emotions that her story put in my mind. I am grateful to her for having such a good influence on me, without even knowing it.  
Initially it was not supposed to be an official part of my story, but eventually it filled some little gaps.


	8. Chapter 8

Face had no idea how long he had held Murdock on the ground. It seemed like a moment to him, but in the meantime the sky had lost all its vibrant colors, and the velvet dark had begun to flood the surroundings. The unpleasant chill spilling out of the rocky ground infiltrated his clothes, but the pilot still clinging to him was spreading warmth. Face felt he could sit there with Murdock for hours. A vague thought flickered through his mind; which one of them needed the embrace more?

When he came out of the house and saw Murdock on the edge of the cliff he was frightened. He believed their crazy pilot wasn't as mad as people thought, yet he was terribly afraid that his friend would suddenly disappear right in front of his eyes into the depths below. And now, having him in his arms, Face wasn't sure whether he was squeezing Murdock to comfort him or to calm himself.

But he was getting stiff slowly and his ass was ice cold. He felt Murdock's fingers clench even more tightly as he tried to shift.

"We should go inside, or we'll both catch a cold," he said quietly.

When he had begun to think the pilot hadn't heard him, his friend finally moved. Hesitantly, Murdock lifted his head and looked into his eyes.

"Thanks," was all he said and then kissed him on the cheek. Face froze in surprise, but Murdock pulled away ready to get up.

Face's fingertips lightly touched the spot where Murdock's lips had tickled him. His stomach quivered in a similar way to when he touched a naked woman in his bedroom. He did not understand why this feeling sometimes happened in the pilot's presence. Whenever he touched him or held him, it was an innocent friendly gesture. Nothing with deeper meaning. He couldn't feel that, he just…

"Face?" Murdock's voice was uncertain. Face realized he was still squatting on the ground with his fingers pressed against his cheek. He quickly got up and brushed off his pants.

"Come on, it's time for dinner," the blond man said, turning towards the house.

"Will you order a pizza?"

"Again?" Face sighed, only for effect.

"They ain't serving pizza at the VA's canteen."

"Okay. But you need to take your meds first."

"Do I hafta, Face? Can't we just say I took them?"

Face shook his head. The same song every morning and evening. Whenever it was time for Murdock's pills, the pilot turned stubborn about swallowing them.

"Come on, Murdock. You want to get well, don't you?"

"I'm not sick."

Face wrapped his arm around Murdock's shoulders and slowly led him over the terrace into the house.

"But you're not well either. Don't you want to sleep peacefully tonight? Last time gave in to you, you screamed all night through. If you don't want to sleep, well, I'm sorry, but I do."

Murdock merely grumbled.

"Look, every time I take you out of the hospital for a few days, I am responsible for you. If you don't take the meds and something happens, they won't let you come with me even for a single day."

"You'd find a way to get me out." Murdock grinned at him in a boundless belief in Face's ability.

"Don't make it harder for me, okay? And go wash your feet, they're nearly black."

"Really?"

In an attempt to look, Murdock balanced on one leg with his head turned to the raised foot, his neck craned. Then he looked at Face with a grimace.

"They're just a little dusty. Will be wiped before I go to bed."

"I took your sneakers away to stop the carpet getting dirty, and you're going to walk around with those dirty feet? Do you know how much that thing is worth? That's a real Persian carpet, if you haven't noticed. So go to the bathroom, or I'll throw you into the car and drive you back to the VA right now."

Murdock made his way to the first floor with a low muttering, marching so furiously that his big bare feet slapped the floor loudly.

"Now I know why I don't want to get married and have children," Face murmured to himself as the pilot disappeared from his sight. But he couldn't hide his amused expression. This man could fly with anything that could be lifted into the air, recite the lines of every western movie he had ever seen and speak in any language without learning it at all. Yet he managed to turn into a little child in a second. But it was exactly for this crazy side of his nature that Face liked him.

He reached for two small bottles of Murdock's medications sadly and shook one pill out of each of them onto his palm. He placed the pills on a table with a glass of water and walked over to the phone.

Pizza for dinner. Again.


	9. Chapter 9

Los Angeles, April 1975

I howled with joy as I felt the undercarriage of the small plane lift off the ground. I was in the sky, back in my kingdom!

Howling again I let the little baby go up a bit more before I leveled her shiny nose with the horizon and tilted her slightly to the right.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain Howlin' Mad speaking. We just left LA and you can unfasten your seat belts. Smokers can move to the rear and light their cigars. It's sunny so far, the weather conditions are good which shouldn't wake the sweet sleeping passengers. Our destination is in Wisconsin, the landing time is estimated at 1700 but that may change depending on the weather or alien abduction. Enjoy your flight and thank you for choosing Howling Airline!"

I added another loud howl and resisted the temptation to do a loop. I was just about to sing cheerfully when muffled voices reached my ears through the thin curtain separating the cockpit from the passenger deck.

"How did you get this bird, Face?" Hannibal asked, puffing on his freshly lit cigar.

"It was a piece of cake. I just had to pretend to be the nephew of a senator. Actually, I have a date with his secretary next week," Face smiled dreamily. The long-legged lady with shiny auburn hair was definitely worth the investment of an expensive restaurant.

"Forget it, Lieutenant. Don't hang around with these people, they always have a security guard on their heels and one of them might recognize you."

"But Hannibal, all the fuss around us is finally abating and these people have better things to do than look out for fugitive vets."

"You're dropping your guard, kid. It could cost you your neck."

"Speaking of that… are you sure it's a good idea to bring Murdock with us and let him fly? If he has a hysterical fit, he could take this plane right into the ground and then you won't have to worry about the police at all."

"No, he won't. Even though he felt miserable, he always knew what he was doing in the cockpit."

"Yeah, but that was before the Section 8."

"I trust him, Face. He will land safely wherever we need. Relax and enjoy the flight."

"But you can't know… you don't have to comfort him every night when he's out of the VA," Face sighed and pressed his hand to his stomach. "Have you ever wondered how this might affect him? He is finally getting better and you want to put a gun in his hand and push him straight into the action. We will probably find him shaking somewhere in a corner after the first shot, or worst case scenario, he could run yelling right into the line of fire."

"You're making him sound crazier than he really is," Hannibal shook his head. "Listen, I talked to him about it. I told him what jobs we are taking now and what he can expect with us, he knows all the potential risks. I thought at first I'd just let him fly the plane and then leave him somewhere safe, but he wants to go with us. He likes the idea of helping people and he isn't afraid of slimeballs shooting at him. He also knows he's not in the best shape and will act accordingly. And I don't think he will suddenly panic and do something stupid. He was a damn good soldier and I bet he will slip right back into it easily. He just said he didn't want to kill anyone. And I promised he wouldn't have to do it because I don't want that from any of you."

"All right. But… what he said sitting on a chair in your apartment is one thing. It's another thing how he will feel when the bullets are whizzing around his head. Do you remember how bad it was on our last mission? They almost killed us! And he is still walking on the edge; it would be very easy to push him over."

"He can do it, Face. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't take him with us. And I'll never ask him to do anything that would hurt him. I trust him. I know he can do it."

Hannibal took a long drag on his cigar and leaned back in his seat. Staring out of the small window, he said, "And you should trust him, too. If he sees that you have doubts about him, it won't make him feel any better."

With a quiet growl Face admitted that Hannibal was right. Still, he couldn't relax and after a few minutes he got up and stuck his head in the cockpit.

"May I sit here?" he asked.

I nodded, not a single blink of my eye showing that I had heard their whole conversation.

The Colonel's trust warmed my heart and I appreciated the chance he was giving me. And Face's concern for my mental health and safety… Jeez, I had to blink after all and swallow hard to drive away the treacherous burning and itching somewhere behind my eyes as the blond boy smiled at me with that cute and nearly innocent smile of his.

"How's BA?" I asked to get rid of my embarrassment quickly.

"Sleeping like a baby. We weren't sure how much of that sleeping powder to give him. If he woke up during the flight and found out you are… uh… he is on this plane, he would probably punch a hole through the door and jump out. We gave him more than was apparently necessary. Just in case, you know."

I was absolutely sure he wanted to say "if he found out you are flying this plane" but I said nothing. I knew that BA had been afraid to fly since a crazy incident in 'Nam and that panic was all the greater when I was behind the joystick. And especially now given my official insanity, he would really rather kill himself if he saw that only my crazy brain was keeping us in the air.

"Thanks, Faceman," I said after a moment.

"For what?" His dark blue eyes widened in surprise.

"For getting this baby. Ya know bein' in the sky again means a lot to me… it's…" I couldn't find the right words so I just howled with joy. It was enough, he understood very well. His lips turned into a light but honest smile. He was sure now that Hannibal had been right once again.

Because I could be scared to death surrounded by terrifying hallucinations and trapped in darkness, but all that remained on the ground. It never got up here. I belonged to the sky and the sky belonged to me. Flying the bird I felt strong and one hundred percent myself. Here I was living, not just surviving…


	10. Chapter 10

Los Angeles, October 1975

Murdock lay on his stomach on the sun-warmed terrace of Face's borrowed house and played chess against himself. Slowly, he hovered his hand over the chess board, thinking deeply about the most advantageous move. When he had finally decided and moved one white pawn, he turned the board around and began to ponder again, this time about the black army.

Face put the leftover fried chicken in the fridge and peered through the French door. He smiled automatically, watching the pilot suddenly jump up and start arguing with himself. A muffled altercation came to his ears.

"You're cheating!"

"You're watchin' me all the time, how could I cheat?"

"I saw you, you moved one extra square! Put it back!"

"Buy yourself glasses cuz ya don't know what ya see!"

"I won't play with you anymore, you dirty cheater!"

"Don't play then, I'll play alone!"

Murdock sat on the tiled floor, this time with his back to the chess board, and crossed his arms on his chest showing his indignation.

Face took hold of the handle, but before he could open the door, there the doorbell rang from the hall. He nervously ran his hand through his hair as he walked towards the front door. He wasn't expecting anyone this weekend: he had promised Murdock that he would take him out. It had been a long time.

The pilot's mental state had improved visibly, especially since he had been helping them with their missions. Face wasn't sure how word had got around LA that there was a unit of mercenaries called the A-Team who helped people in need when they had no one to turn to and the police were standing aside. However, people with various problems began to look for their little Team, and they agreed to help most of them, for a fee. Nothing special yet, but some extra money was definitely useful and life was beginning to make sense again. Although he would have sworn that Hannibal enjoyed it the most out of all of them. The Colonel was certainly not made to sit idly on the couch with slippers on his feet, and his eyes were slowly beginning to sparkle with that inscrutable maniacal look that Face had already seen in Vietnam. Jazz, that's what they called it. And Hannibal was on the Jazz again. He provoked Lynch, enjoying the mad chases and maneuvers, driving the rest of the Team mad. The fact that they accidentally ran across a small delivery company that was faced with unfair competition was a deliverance. Hannibal finally had something to do and he and BA were willing to join him because anything was better than unnecessarily teasing Lynch and risking getting caught. And it finally became their unofficially official job.

Face peered through the peephole and opened the door in surprise.

"Melissa, what are you doing here?"

"Templeton! I am… may I come in?"

The slender, long-haired blonde did not wait for an answer and slipped past him. Without looking around, she headed to the living room immediately. Face slammed the door and followed her.

"Is anything wrong?" He asked.

"Of course it is. I wouldn't be here if everything was all right, would I? Do you have anything to drink? It's pretty hot outside, I feel like I have been walking through the desert."

She sat on the armrest of the leather sofa feigning disinterest, but her miniskirt rode up provocatively.

Face looked her up and down. The lady certainly didn't look like someone who had been wandering through the desert. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Murdock sitting on the terrace in his flight jacket. He wore it almost constantly but if it was really hot, even the pilot decided to remove that leather layer.

Face narrowed his eyes but said nothing, just opened the fridge and took out a bottle of chilled mineral water.

"Don't you have anything stronger? I'm really upset!"

Face raised his eyebrows questioningly, but received no answer. He reached for a bottle of red wine.

"Thanks." Melissa slipped off the sofa to take the offered glass, smiling at him with a bright seductive smile. She sipped and started pacing the room.

Face knew she was pretending to be upset to make him watch the movement of her tanned legs, not to mention the hypnotic wiggle of her hips and backside.

"May I ask you now what has happened?" Face asked ignoring everything she was so ostentatiously showing.

"It was my roommate. She brought home another animal! She works as a veterinary assistant, keeps bringing her work home and it drives me crazy. We already have two dogs and she brought a cat! I hate animals, you know. They are so dirty and messy. 'It's only for a few days, Mel,' she said. 'The poor baby was hit by a car and she doesn't have a home.' Yeah, I can understand why. Who would want a three-legged, mangy monster? And that thing broke into my closet today and ruined all my clothes! I threw it out on the street but Jenny screamed at me and we had a big fight. I finally ran out wearing only the clothes I had on. Look at them, they don't even match!"

Melissa put her glass on the mantelpiece so that she could demonstrate her outfit.

Face definitely didn't think it didn't go together. On the contrary, her clothes were artfully chosen. Seductive tight miniskirt and loose gauzy blouse… just perfect.

"I didn't know where to go," she continued. "And then it occurred to me that you are here. Can I stay with you? Surely I can, you have such a big house!"

"Well, you know…" Face looked back at the terrace. Murdock was once again absorbed in the chess game. "It's not the best idea, Melissa. I have a friend here and he is–"

"I don't mind, Templeton," she shook her head, blinking seductively at him. He was taking a breath to answer when she grabbed him firmly around his waist and pulled him close. "He can take care of himself, right?"

"Actually, he can't–"

"I need you now, Temple… you wouldn't let me sleep on the street, would you?" Her left hand slid down to his ass and squeezed it tightly. It seemed casual when she licked her lips, yet it was clearly targeted.

"No, but…"

Before he could finish the sentence she clung to him, smiling.

"Thanks. You're so sweet!"

Face felt her breasts pressing against his body while Melissa continued stroking and squeezing his buttocks. He couldn't stand it any longer and leaned toward her. She was more than willing to accept his kiss. Immediately, her tongue forced its way through his lips and completely disarmed him.

She tasted like red wine. The sip she had before couldn't be her first that day. Face made one last attempt to pull away from her but Melissa pulled his shirt out of his jeans and slipped her hand quickly under it. Her long fingernails ran up and down his spine and he got goosebumps all over him.

Face gripped her tightly.

Her fingers changed their route and ran around the waistband of his jeans before inviting themselves under it. He groaned softly. Suddenly his denims were too tight.

Melissa smiled happily to herself. It had been three weeks since she met this sweet blond guy. He had taken her to dinner at an expensive restaurant and then back to his house. A few days later they had a second date, but when she had waited for him the third time, he had apologized and didn't turn up. She hadn't been able to reach him until today. And it seemed she would be successful this time. She was pretty sure that she would get what she wanted tonight.

Neither of them noticed the figure standing on the terrace.

Murdock stared through the French door, frowning and rubbing his hands together nervously.

And when Face began blindly unbuttoning Melissa's blouse without breaking their kiss, a wailing hysterical scream came from outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter and the next one (will be coming soon) three years ago. I remember I got this idea while reading another fanfiction, but unfortunately I remember neither the title of the story nor the author.


	11. Chapter 11

I moved the black rook on the chess board, checkmating myself. This was not the plan, White was supposed to win!

Cranky, I knocked the rest of the chessmen over and they rolled in all directions. I wasn't enjoying playing against myself today. I was hoping Face would join me as soon as he had cleaned up the kitchen after eating.

It was funny how meticulous he was. Every now and then he managed to scam a luxury house or apartment, but then, most of the time he was terribly nervous trying to avoid getting it dirty, not to mention avoiding damage to all of the precious things inside.

I lay on my back on the heated tiles with my head on my arms and stared idly at the blue sky, spattered with a few white, fluffy clouds.

It had been a few months since I had returned to the sky. The amazing feeling when I was flying again lasted for several weeks and even chased away some of the demons that crept into my head at night.

Watching the slowly floating clouds I sighed happily, lost in my thoughts. Yeah, I was wondering when we would have a mission outside the car-reachable area again so I could fly once more. I missed flying more than I ever thought I would. I might ask Faceman if he could get an ultralight or at least a glider. Just for fun. I can have some fun, right?

I pushed myself up with a question burning on my lips. Quickly gathered up all the scattered chessmen and placed them on the board so that Face wouldn't get unnecessarily upset again, and headed to the house. Reaching for the handle, I took a breath to be ready to ask my question as soon as I opened the door. But an unexpected scene right before my eyes hit me like a ton of bricks.

I retreated a few steps with my mouth open, unable to look away. And I tried. Tried so hard; didn't want to watch. Didn't want to see. But I did see…

I saw Face kissing a blonde passionately. Her hands were lost in his jeans, moving back and forth on his ass.

No, I had no illusions about his life. I knew who he was, and that his bedroom sometimes resembled Central Station. Most of the time in the VA I managed not to think about it. And outside I had Hannibal and BA distracting me. But here… there was no escape.

This was supposed to be our weekend, you know. OUR weekend! No one had the right to ruin it.

Why did she come? And why did he let her in? What do they want to do in there while I'm out here like a dog in a kennel? Like a... a dog! Billy!

I screamed. Throwing the door open, I rushed in.

"Face! Billy's suffocating! He's… he can't breathe!"

It was perfect. My invasion had the intended effect. Those two jumped away from each other as if they had been struck by an electric shock and, while Face turned to me with a guilty look, the girl's expression was absolutely hostile. I ignored her.

"Please! Come quickly or he will die! I don't know what I'm gonna do if Billy dies, Face!"

"Murdock, calm down!" He stepped towards me gripping my shoulders firmly, looking into my eyes. "What happened?"

"It's a ball! That little red ball I got for him from the cereal packet! He ran with it, jumped up and… it's stuck in his throat now!" I yelled, shaking him wildly.

"Oh God… Melissa, could you please excuse me for a moment?"

Face glanced at the girl. She gave him a fake sweet smile and immediately sent an extra disgusted expression in my direction. I resisted the temptation to stick my tongue out at her and quickly pulled Faceman out.

"Where is he?"

"Right over there!"

I really could see my dog. He was amazing. He always appeared whenever I needed him. And now I was worried about him. He was lying on his side looking dead. I shook Face again and pushed him forward.

"Ya see him? He's not breathin'! Please do somethin'!"

"Did you try to pull the ball out?"

"No, I didn't. My fingers are shaking, I just… I can't!"

I dropped to my knees and leaned over Billy with real fear. Face knelt beside me, hesitating for a second before touching the shaggy creature. As if he really saw him, he lifted Billy's head and put his manicured hand into the dog's mouth. He tried to fish out the ball but after several futile attempts he shook his head.

"It's in very deep and too slippery. I can't pull it out."

"No! You have to! It's my Billy!"

I collapsed on the grass right beside my dog, unable to control my hysteria.

"Calm down, I'll try something else," he said pulling his hand out of Billy's mouth, putting his thumbs under Billy's lower jaw instead, and pushing. The ball shot out like a red bullet and nestled in the grass a few yards away.

There was a moment of silence as we both stared at Billy's chest. It wasn't rising. I wailed desperately.

"Damn!" Face cursed, bending down and pressing his ear against the still rib cage. "He's not dead yet, his heart is beating."

"But he's not breathing, Face!"

Without looking up at me, he pressed his palms against Billy's chest and began to squeeze it every three seconds. He even tried to breathe a little life into my poor dog, stubbornly determined to save him. I loved him for that, but all my feelings were subdued by the tormenting terror.

It seemed to me it lasted forever before Face suddenly stopped, staring intently at my furry friend.

I sniffed and focused my blurred vision on the same spot. My own breath caught in my throat as I saw Billy's chest slowly rise and fall. At first only slightly, but it was getting stronger every second. I sat up, shaking.

Billy's eyes fluttered open and his tail slapped the ground several times.

"He's alive! Face, he's alive!"

Face sat down on the grass exhaustedly. I reached for him, pulling him closer to me.

"Thanks, Face. You saved his life," I breathed gratefully.

"Next time Murdock, don't let him play with toys he can swallow, okay?" he told me as gently as he could and handed me a small red ball. I hadn't even noticed when he went to lift it off the ground.

I nodded as I put the ball in my jacket pocket. Never give it to my doggie again.

Billy raised his head woozily and when he saw me looking at him, he struggled to his paws.

"Why don't you take him to your bedroom so he can recover on his blanket?" Face suggested as he pointed to the house.

"But…"

"I'll be there in a minute. Don't know if you noticed, but we have a guest. I have to explain to her what happened. You know people can't normally see your dog."

I growled in agreement. It was okay. I actually got what I wanted; they stopped kissing. And Billy survived, that was the main thing. I just hoped that Face would think with his head and not that other part of him, and pack her off.

As I passed the lady, she was sitting on the sofa and sipping wine with a disgusted expression. If nothing else, they would have to postpone their plans until I stopped wandering around.

And I won't. I won't make it that easy for them!


	12. Chapter 12

Montana, May 1977

Murdock sat hidden in the bushes with his weapon ready, waiting. When he was really focused, he could see, off and on, the golden glints from the opposite shrubbery where BA was crouching in the dense vegetation. But the pilot fixed his eyes to the right, searching in the trees. He could sense Face's presence in the green flood of leaves without actually seeing him. This was one of the Lieutenant's unequalled abilities. If Faceman didn't want people to see him, no one had a chance to spot him. That made him perfect on patrol in Vietnam. And a good sniper too. But it made it much more difficult to find him when there was unexpected trouble.

Murdock shook his head and took a deep breath. He held his breath for a moment, and then began to count down from ten to one, exhaling slowly. He felt a terrible sense of panic overtake him. Deep breathing was the only way to lower his stress.

Most of the time he didn't suffer from panic attacks anymore. Being in action with the Team helped a lot, it kept his attention away from fear. But occasionally, when he sat waiting with plenty of time to think, he suddenly felt panicky.

He hated waiting. That time when everything was ready… weapons loaded, traps set, all complications discussed, and they were just waiting.

He finished his breathing exercise and checked the entire space out again; cocked his ear to hear every crackle and searched for Face once more. He couldn't see him. It was good. Good for Face. Bad for him.

Murdock knew he was a nervous wreck. His nerves were like stretched strings and he tried not to brush against even one of those wires vibrating inside his body. But sitting in the silence, he began to feel that everything was wrong.

'That damn plan can't work out.'

He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, breathed in slowly through his nose, letting the air in deeply, towards his lower belly. He told himself that every plan had always turned out well.

'The Colonel knows what he's doing and I trust him. I did in 'Nam and I still trust him now. Yeah, I really do… but… just because something worked a hundred times, it doesn't mean it will work for one hundred and one, right? No, can't think like that, Murdock! Having doubts means inviting problems. It's like forgetting to knock on wood. And to admit those doubts, that… that would mean not trusting myself. And if I can't trust myself, I can't trust anything at all!'

He sighed. He couldn't trust himself. There were so many white spots on the map of his life… He grimaced at that thought.

'White spots? What a joke, muchacho. They're frighteningly dark. Like a basement where something you need is hidden. Something you lost and you have to get it back, but you are damn afraid to walk into that freezing darkness and take it. 'cause you don't even know if you want it back. If it's worth the scary journey…'

His thoughts were interrupted by a rustle somewhere on his left side, and Murdock automatically pointed his gun in that direction. His heart pounded loudly, each muscle tense and ready to spring him to his feet if needed. He felt like a jack-in-the-box. Like a stick of dynamite with a lighted fuse; but he had no idea how long the fuse was.

He breathed out in relief as a tiny creature ran through the overgrown grass.

'That's okay, muchacho. It's just a chipmunk,' he told himself, watching the agile animal as it rummaged through last years' leaves unaware of the presence of anyone else. For a second he longed to be a small, carefree chipmunk, able to run freely… run away from all worries and horrors, with a clear head, innocent soul…

Murdock realized again how much he hated waiting. His mind resembled a wasps' nest. There were too many things in it, swirling and circling, and he could do nothing, absolutely nothing, to stop them. He couldn't talk. He couldn't sing. He couldn't scream… every time he tried something like that someone silenced him immediately. He still could feel the pressure of BA's fingers on his throat. Big Guy took care of him when he started singing the last time. He had to be quiet. Like during those sleepless nights when he wanted to sleep, but sleep didn't come and he just stared through the barred window at the faded moon. He had learned very quickly that it was better to remain silent, because when he screamed… oh man… they came to give him a shot. And if he defended himself, and he always did in the first months, he was dragged out into a padded room or tied to his bed. Sure, it was for his own good, but there was nothing worse than finding himself tied to a hospital bed in his transitory life. At those moments he felt too defenseless and completely naked before his own thoughts. And those thoughts were so loud. They screamed and yelled at him, forcing him to curl up inside his own head into a small ball, trembling as they laughed evilly over his helpless body.

He heard them. Had been hearing them everywhere and it didn't help when he covered his ears with his hands because they were somewhere in his mind. They screamed more and more, louder and louder… he often bit his lips until they were bleeding. Pressed them together with his fingers to prevent himself from screaming too. Because if he started screaming, he could never stop. He would scream to death. They would scream him to death.

If he started screaming now and was lucky, perhaps the Sergeant's fingers would squeeze his neck too tightly and end it all before his vocal cords exploded. And maybe…

A soft, barely audible moan escaped from his mouth. The chipmunk, sitting with a shriveled berry in his paws only a few feet away, started and was gone in a second.

Murdock realized that he had clenched his fingers around his Ruger so tightly that his knuckles had gone white and he nearly couldn't feel them. He loosened his grip and shifted the weight to his left leg, as his right one was starting to get numb.

"Cool it, Captain. The Colonel is relying on you. The whole Team is relying on you. Don't let your panic control you again. Not here. Not now," he murmured to himself.

He didn't like it. Remembered he wasn't like that. Long ago, in those days when darkness was only a word describing deep night, he used to be patient. Quiet. Well, maybe not so patient and quiet. But he definitely hadn't been like this. Or had he? What had he been like, actually? And who was he now?

The unmistakable sound of Huey helicopters began to creep into his mind, with the screams and wails of wounded and dying men. Murdock shook his head.

"You're just a nutcase," he answered himself. "Concentrate. Do your job."

He checked the weapon just to be sure, looked at BA on the opposite side of the clearing, and eagerly searched for Face. And he spotted him!

The Lieutenant's beige sweater appeared in the green foliage as Face gave him a signal.

Murdock's posture changed in a heartbeat. It was as if someone had waved a magic wand; the pilot looked confident and single-minded, his expression was determined and focused. He stood up from his knees and, still crouching slightly, slipped through the trees. He aimed his Mini-14 and pulled the trigger. There was the loud barking of a semi-automatic rifle, chasing away all the screaming thoughts. He was on the battlefield now, he knew that and was not afraid of it. He now stood firmly above the dark visions, making a mockery of them. Because he had his task and he would do it, even if it cost him his life.

He rushed through the trees. The rain of bullets hit the trunks behind him, tearing off shreds of bark. Murdock responded with a loud excited howl, then he aimed and returned fire.

***

This was the cure. The best remedy for everything, he thought, seeing the Colonel with his mad grin and a cigar between his gritted teeth.

"I love it when a plan comes together," Hannibal said contentedly as he watched BA and Face escorting a five-man group of bastards who had been terrorizing local farmers. Murdock returned the smile and stood beside him.

"Ya know, Colonel, this was actually a piece of cake. These fellas didn't even realize what was goin' on."

"Didn't I say that at the beginning? And you didn't believe me," Hannibal pointed out, grinning even wider and more shark-like.

"Because whenever you say something is going to be a piece of cake, it is a sign that we should write our last Will," Face said impassively, impatiently jerking the rope as he tried to tie one of the captured opponents to their jeep.

Murdock wanted to say something encouraging, but the sight of Face almost took his breath away. His friend was disheveled and one sleeve hung around his arm in ripped stripes of beige wool. He had rarely seen him that way. Face was so… he was gorgeous… he was absolutely–

"You better move your ass, fool, and help us with 'em! Or I'll tie you up to 'em and leave ya here!" BA sharply cut off the pilot's thoughts and threw a coil of rope at his feet.

Murdock forced his body to move, and when his fingers accidentally touched Face's hand as they tightened the rope knots together he felt a familiar ticklish feeling in his stomach. Some of those black shadows clutching his mind had returned. It was something he probably could never control…


	13. Chapter 13

Los Angeles, June 1977

"Son…" I heard a soft sigh in that gentle voice, but I continued to stare at the ground, not looking at Sidney. He was my only friend here in the VA. The only one I could trust. I didn't even trust my shrink, which probably wasn't good if the treament was going to work. But I could trust Sidney. And he used to be a doctor. Served in the Korean War as a psychiatrist. And he ended up here. As a patient. I didn't know what others thought about him. I didn't know what he thought about himself. But I knew what I thought. He knew it from both sides; being a doc and being a patient. That made him more experienced. More trustworthy. Yet it was hard to talk to him sometimes. Too painful.

After a short pause he continued. "You've looked pretty awful the last few days. Is there anything wrong in that little head of yours?"

I remained silent. Everything was wrong in that little head of mine. That was why I had been here for years, right? Well… maybe not everything was wrong. The shadows of the Vietnamese jungle had slowly faded. Still, I could feel the agonizing weight that dragged me down to the ground and devoured my mind.

"No, I… I'm just confused," I admitted.

"Confused?"

"You know, those nights lying in my bed when I can't sleep, I have plenty of time to think. Think back, I mean."

I closed my eyes; remembered his face. Face's innocent smile, ocean blue eyes, shiny blond hair…

I can see all of this when I try so hard to fall asleep, but that is why sleep ain't comin'. I wish I could lie on the next bunk, near him in that fuckin' canvas military tent, in that fuckin' jungle as I had in the last few months of our mutual stay in 'Nam. And these thoughts scare me 'cause I think that means I really want to be back in that war. And wanting to be back in that war means wanting to kill people again. And I hate killing people. I hate myself for wishing those things. For what I did and could do and–

"You're talking about Vietnam here, aren't you?" Fortunately, Sidney pulled me out of my hysterical reflections.

"No," I said, then corrected myself, "Yes."

"So, No… Or Yes?"

"No. And yes. That's why I'm confused."

"Could you be more specific, please?"

Sure I could. So specific that he would get sick. 'Cause every thought, every single memory began and ended with Templeton Peck. Always.

"I remember… him," I replied simply.

I knew I could talk about Face. More or less. At first I didn't want to. Didn't want to tell anybody. Never in my life. But during those long years my need to unload that mental baggage grew rapidly… I couldn't talk to either Hannibal or BA, let alone confess my feelings to Face. But Sidney could hear it. In a modified version, of course. I would never betray my Team. So I was using a fake name for him, fake personal details.

Don't get me wrong, I can keep a secret. I know a lot of sensitive things and I've never given them away. I was beaten and tortured but still kept my mouth shut. I did it then. Can do it anytime. But this is different, too personal. This could cause another mental breakdown for me. I couldn't tell my doc. But Sidney could know. Part of it. He went through that war shit like me. He had met even crazier guys than me. The same type of guys as me. He didn't judge. He just listened. And he could help.

I heard him sigh loudly, but ignored it.

"Seven years, Sid. Seven incredibly long years. And I haven't said a word all this time. Never. Sometimes I try to show a little something when I'm with him on my weekend pass, but… we've known each other for so long that such hints ain't working. He doesn't understand, ya know? Not in the right way. And not in my case. I'm Howlin' Mad, you can only expect crazy stuff from me. Nothing serious. Nothing personal." I snorted. Face was really blind sometimes. "If I get a chance I fall asleep next to him on the couch, putting my head on his lap. Maybe it's a coincidence, maybe it's intentional. Ya know, I'm just trying to cram into there. I'm quite tall, what can I say? Sometimes he pushes me away. He is afraid of wrinkling his suit. But he usually allows me to do it. Once I really fell asleep, and then woke up with his hand in my hair. I was… man, I was in Heaven! Before I found out he was asleep, too. Mumbling some girl's name in his sleep. I wanted to cry.

In 'Nam, I covered his back when I was around. He could always count on me to be there with my bird. And he did the same for me. Natural thing, you could say. And it was. From his point of view, we were brothers in arms. But it wasn't like that for me. It was a way to be close to him. A way to prevent him from being hurt. A way to hear him, feel him. A way to touch him when I was helping him get to the Mess 'cause he was exhausted and starving after several days of jungle fighting. And you can bet I wanted to touch him. I still want to. Jeez, I want it so badly–"

"Murdock," he cut me off. He wasn't rude, but he wasn't tactful either. I didn't blame him. Who wanted to listen to this queer jabbering? "We've talked about this before. You got used to hiding from the real world under his wings in Vietnam and…"

"His wings? I am the one who can fly, Sid. The one who took him up in the air when the ground exploded under his feet," I grimaced.

"Come on, Murdock. You're not stupid, you know what I mean."

I growled instead of answering and he continued.

"I see it like this. In a moment of desperation, your friend offered you his arms to help you, comfort you. He held you, giving you the feeling that you're not alone. That's what brothers in arms do when the other one is despondent or frightened. And you accepted his help. There's nothing wrong with that, honestly. I'm so glad he was there with you. But you're not in Vietnam anymore. Here you no longer have to run to a mother hen. You've got a lot of people around who are helping you. And you can get better help here; professional help. I was a doctor, I know what I'm talking about."

"But I'm not running to him!" I cried out angrily as I turned to him. He didn't understand. He was just trying to be a shrink once more, feeding me that crap from books. "I love him!"

"Are you sure this is real love, Murdock?" he said patiently. "You clung to him because he brought you comfort in times of need. You were fixated on him so much that even now, when you no longer need his solicitous care, you can't give it up. You think you love him, but it's just your pure fear of letting go of something you've been holding on to for so long. He was your life buoy back then and sure you could have loved him for that, but that's not real love. Try to let him go. Now you can swim alone, I know you can. Keep him in sight, that's okay. But don't hold on to him. You will not drown."

I thought for a second about what he was telling me. I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks, ending in the corners of my mouth. What did they mean? Silent anger that someone didn't believe in my feelings? Despair about not having what I longed for? Fear of my friend telling me the truth? Maybe it was all them together.

I licked the salty taste from my lips. Yes, life wasn't sweet. Not for me.

When I wiped my tears and raised my head, Sidney was gone. I frowned. I must have been completely lost in my head again 'cause I never heard him leave. But he always did this, giving me time to think in private about what we discussed. Sometimes I didn't see him in weeks. That was a little weird, actually. The hospital area was large, but not that large. Okay, had to admit that I never thought about it much. Sid was always there when I needed to talk to him and that was fine. And I needed to think about different things now. Things I didn't want to think about at all, but it was time to deal with them. It was time to let Face go. We were friends, that had to be enough for me.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading.  
But this is not the end, not really. You can continue reading the second part called "Behind the Curtain". I will try to do my best to add it here as soon as possible.  
I would also like to thank RickylLover and Tessa54 for their help. Thanks for all your corrections and suggestions, and especially for your patience with my poor English. I appreciate your help.


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